Behind Every Great Man
by Shadowy-sheep
Summary: What are the secrets of Professor McGonagall's past? And what light do they shed on Dumbledore's power?
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my first HP fanfic - the usual disclaimer applies... the characters are not mine, I have borrowed them and no infringement of coyright is intended.**

**This is McGonagall centred but with eventual ADMM.**

**Please read and review :-)**

It was during the Christmas holidays of Harry's fifth year and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting quietly in a corner of the living room at Grimmauld Place.

Arthur Weasley had returned from St. Mungos a few days previously, but after the initial celebrations the atmosphere, particularly around Harry had returned to one of tension. This was hardly surprising, considering the anxious brooding mood of Harry himself, which was affecting everyone around him.

Harry and Ron were playing Wizard's chess, speaking only to direct their pieces, whilst Hermione was enjoying re-reading _Hogwarts: A History_, when they heard an authoritative tap at the door followed by Moody's distinctive footsteps, approaching it whilst muttering "Constant vigilance" under his breath. Wordlessly Ron produced a handful of extendable ears and gave one to each of his friends and took another for himself before returning the remainder to his pocket. Using the extendable ears the three Gryffindors listened to the hallway conversation.

"Minerva," they heard Moody growl.

"Good evening, Alastor," replied Professor McGonagall briskly, "I wonder if you could help me?"

Moody growled a non-committal response.

"I need to speak with Albus," McGonagall continued.

"What about?"

"Its private," she answered curtly.

"Keep your love life separate from Order business," growled Moody as he walked away.

"Its that Umbridge woman," Minerva said suddenly.

"What about her," Moody inquired, although Harry, Ron and Hermione could see him outside the door, still facing away from McGonagall.

"She's been asking questions and snooping around mine and Albus' lives."

"I always said your relationship was a bad idea," growled Moody, "Putting yourselves in danger is what it is. Constant vigilance!"

"Alastor!" McGonagall exclaimed fiercely, "She is not looking at our relationship, she has been asking about Albus' power, how – how he became the most powerful wizard alive and…" she sighed, "Asking about my family history and perhaps looking for the dark mark… she also asked whether I can do wandless magic."

"What did you say?" demanded Moody, turning with the concern clear on his face.

"That I can, but in general I chose to use a wand."

"Does she believe you?"

"I don't know."

Moody growled something inaudible under his breath, "If Fudge discovers what happened as well as your mark…"

"He will use it to further discredit Albus," finished Minerva worriedly. "He could probably use it to send him to Azkaban. And if it becomes public knowledge, well, then You-Know-Who could find out."

"He doesn't already know?"

"Not everything…only what – what he saw."

"You'd better come in," Alastor said calmly. "Dumbledore will return soon."

She sighed, "Thank you, Alastor. I wish I could contact him as I used to but he made me promise only to do so in life or death situations."

Alastor growled, "This is close enough."


	2. Chapter 2

When McGonagall entered the living room Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly tried to pretend they were focussed in their game and books and had not heard the whole conversation. However, Professor McGonagall had been teaching young wizards and witches for far too long to be fooled.

"May I ask how you managed to eavesdrop on the conversation between Mr Moody and myself?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other nervously, but Hermione's gaze remained disconcertingly focussed upon McGonagall, a stunned look upon her face.

"What do you mean Professor?" Harry ventured.

"I am not as foolish as you appear to think, Mr Potter, and I am well aware that you heard our conversation. I am merely inquiring how."

Hermione timidly held out her extendable ear without ever removing her stunned gaze and McGonagall took it, frowning slightly.

"Very interesting," she commented, "What do you call it?"

"An extendable ear," Harry replied, "Fred and…"

"Ah," said Professor McGonagall her mouth twitching slightly, "I should have known that Fred and George Weasley were involved. Very talented wizards both of them, indeed I sometimes feel the only area where they do not fully demonstrate their ability is in their studies."

The three students glanced at each other uncertainly for a moment before McGonagall's twitching mouth formed a half smile and they realised she had been joking.

At that moment Lupin, Moody, Sirius, Tonks and Arthur and Molly Weasley entered the room, closely followed by the twins and Ginny.

"Moody's explained the situation," muttered Arthur Weasley, the concern obvious on his face.

McGonagall looked up at him with a sigh, "I am afraid this could put Albus, and the Order in a very difficult position if the Minister learns of it. And if You-Know-Who ever learns the whole story…" she shook her head, indicating the hopelessness should such a situation arise.

"What is the whole story?" demanded Tonks, "I'm sure I never knew."

"No," McGonagall said, "You wouldn't, you were not a part of the original Order."

"Neither were Molly and myself come to that," Arthur added.

"True," said McGonagall, "Well, I suppose the story must be told again. Remus, if you would…"

Lupin nodded and left the room, returning moments later with what looked like an overly large pensieve.

"What's that?" Tonks asked.

"The Order pensieve," replied Lupin, "Filled with memories of Order members which could be of relevance."

"Dumbledore put the original story together," McGonagall commented. "He used slightly more memories than I would consider necessary, but as most of you have already seen it, I suppose it will do no harm to see it again in the way he arranged it."

The assembled company nodded and Molly Weasley found her voice and turned sharply to Ginny and the twins, "Go to your rooms," she ordered.

"But mum," they began.

"This is Professor McGonagall's private business," Molly informed them, "You have no right to intrude." She turned to the far corner, "You three as well."

Harry glanced at his godfather pleadingly.

"Harry has a right to know of anything to do with the order," Sirius argued.

"He is still a child," Molly responded, "And Professor McGonagall's student."

Sirius sighed, "He's more than mature enough…"

The Weasley twins and Ron cut in, arguing if Harry could hear the story then they should also be allowed to. Quickly Ginny's pleas joined theirs and Arthur and Lupin became involved in the discussion.

McGonagall said nothing to them but turned to look at the bushy haired girl still sitting in the corner looking shocked.

"Miss Granger, is something concerning you?"

The girl looked nervously at her Professor.

"You and Mr Moody mentioned the," she paused, "The dark mark."

Professor McGonagall said nothing, but Lupin and Harry had heard and both turned to stare at the pair. The other occupants of the room soon realised and by the end of Hermione's question everyone had fallen silent and heard her words.

"Were you a death eater, Professor?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed - it is due to your encouragement that I am adding two new chapters now (I hope you enjoy them!)**

**Much of the story will develop through looking at 'Order' memories but I'm also planning to make sure I include the reactions of those characters watching the memories.**

**Please read and leave me a review, whether you liked or loathed it (even if its just a short 'yay' or 'nay') I'd love to know...**

The reactions around the room differed considerably, many of the adults gasped audibly and all of the children faced Professor McGonagall with horrified stares. Ron gazed at Hermione and muttered, "What?" under his breath and Moody simply gave a growl of appreciation and patted Hermione roughly on the back.

"Constant vigilance," he barked, "Trust nobody. Good girl. But don't go asking people if they're death eaters," he added, "You'll put them on their guard."

Everyone quickly turned to stare at Moody apart from Sirius who gave a sharp gasp of laughter and was quickly joined by the usually stern McGonagall, who gave a precise little chuckle before returning to her normal firm expression and turning to Molly.

"I'm sorry, Molly," she said, "But I'm afraid I must ask you to allow the children to stay. I may be somewhat concerned with them knowing my story, but I am significantly more concerned by the idea of them returning to Hogwarts believing me to be, or have been, a death eater."

Molly sighed, "Very well," she said.

Ron turned to stare at Hermione in delight, thrilled thather strange question had had such pleasing results. But Hermione was asking yet another question.

"Do you have the Dark Mark, Professor?"

McGonagall was silent for a moment before nodding her head to the amazement of those in the room who had never heard the story.

"But I received it before it was the mark of his followers," she murmured softly, "When he first used it to mark his victims."

There was an uncomfortable silence broken eventually by McGonagall carefully stirring the pensieve with her wand and selecting the appropriate string of memories.

"I will show you the full story," she said calmly. "It is told through a string of various memories from different people and to my mind includes far too many irrelevant and well – private details. Nevertheless, this is the way Dumbledore created the string and I will let you see it as it is, since I believe he had his reasons."


	4. Chapter 4

It was the very beginning of the term and a dark haired Professor with an enormous beard was leading a group of nervous first years to the front of the Hall. The sorting ceremony proceeded as usual until the Professor called, "McGonagall Minerva."

A small girl with a pale face and dark hair stepped nervously forward and clambered upon the stool, whereupon the sorting hat was placed on her head. At the staff table a thin, elderly witch leaned across to a much younger Albus Dumbledore and whispered, "Another McGonagall, Slytherin, like every other in the last three centuries."

"SLYTHERIN!" exclaimed the sorting hat, apparently agreeing with the elderly witch. However, as the hat was removed from the girl's head something happened that had never before occurred in the history of Hogwarts and has not occurred since either.

"WAIT" called the hat.

The dark haired Professor with the enormous beard, the Deputy Headmaster and Head of Ravenclaw froze with the hat in his hands, as everyone in the room stared in amazement. Slowly, he lowered the hat back onto the girl's head and it began to mutter to itself.

"Slytherin you are through and through, descendant of Slytherin students, Slytherin blood in your veins, a Slytherin heart and a determined Slytherin mind. Slytherin you should be. And yet, there is something, something I can barely see, but it could make all the difference in the world to who you are and who you will be. I wonder now, what choice you will make, whether you truly have a heart of more than a self-seeking Slytherin." The hat paused in its thoughts. "Since I see everything ends with a choice, maybe I should let you make your choice now…do you want to go to Slytherin, the house of your forefathers?"

The girl on the stool thought deeply for a moment and the reply formed in her head. "My family want me to…how can I refuse?"

"They would never know," the hat reassured her, "They would believe I chose," he paused, "Never before have I allowed a student to choose their own fate."

"Then no," she thought, "I do not wish to be Slytherin, I know what my family are, and I wish to try a different path."

"Very well," the hat murmured, "I CHANGE MY MIND…GRYFFINDOR!"

A shocked, frozen silence greeted this announcement. There was no cheer from the Gryffindor table and the Deputy Headmaster made no move to remove the hat. The sorting hat had never before and would never again change its mind after making an announcement.

"Should I go now?" the girl thought to the hat.

"Yes," the hat replied, "I will not sort you a third time."

A small smile played with her lips and she got to her feet, carefully placing the hat on the table before walking over to the Gryffindor table. As she approached the table still no one made a sound, or even moved. Then, all of a sudden Professor Dumbledore, Head of Gryffindor House, stood at the staff table and clapped his hands proudly for his new student. The spell on the hall was broken and the Gryffindor table quickly joined in, applauding and even managing a modest cheer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all of the wonderful readers out there! I'm sooo happy with the reviews I've been getting from you that I am posting faster than ever before, and so here is the next chapter!**

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in the Headmaster's office, listening to Armando Dippet discuss the new Gryffindor.

"I have already had a furious owl from her father," Dippet sighed, "He wishes us to take the hat's first decision as binding and place her in Slytherin."

"The sorting hat knows what it is doing, Headmaster. If it thinks she should be in Gryffindor, then Gryffindor is where she belongs."

"Indeed, all the same, Albus, I am concerned. I'm surprised you aren't. After all, a McGonagall in Gryffindor! They have always been in Slytherin, Albus, they are amongst the darkest wizards and witches the world has ever seen!"

Dumbledore frowned, "But she is her own person, Headmaster. We cannot judge her on who her family are."

"I am still worried, Albus. The hat has never changed its mind before, and surely the fact that it originally thought she belonged in Slytherin is concerning."

Albus sighed, "We should accept the hat's decision and accept her, Headmaster. What else can we do?"

Dippet shook his head. "She will not be happy, Albus. Your Gryffindors will not like the idea of having a Slytherin in their midst and the Slytherins will probably loathe her more than any of the other Gryffindors…"

"She will learn to cope with the situation in time."

"Perhaps," Dippet sighed. "I must be going, Albus, I have a meeting to attend."

Dumbledore nodded and after Dippet's departure by floo turned to the shelving at the back of the office.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" he demanded.

"I saw something," replied the hat. "Initially I could tell she was a Slytherin through and through; and yet… I had a glimpse of a future and a decision of hers. A decision of courage, self-sacrifice and…of love…"

Dumbledore looked up, "You saw the future?"

"I saw _a_ future," replied the hat curtly. "I would never be so foolish as to suggest there is only one possible future."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, "And on the basis of this you changed you're decision?"

"No, on the basis of that I decided to consider the position more carefully than I had first done."

"And?" queried Dumbledore.

"Your need to know everything is not particularly endearing, Albus. Perhaps I should have placed you in Slytherin after all."

Dumbledore rolled his eyes, "Sherbet lemon?" he offered as he popped one of the sweets into his mouth.

"Not funny," huffed the hat, as, obviously, hats cannot eat sweets, even hats as talented as the sorting hat.

"So," smiled Dumbledore, "Are you going to explain the basis of your decision to me."

"To be honest," the hat answered, "I barely understand it myself. She could have gone anywhere, Albus. She has the cunning and self-serving nature of a Slytherin, the courage of a Gryffindor, the brains of a Ravenclaw and the loyal and hard-working manner of a Hufflepuff. Centuries ago the founders would have had quite a battle over that one."

"So why Gryffindor?"

"I offered her the choice."

"You let her choose which house she went to?"

"No," growled the hat, "That's my job. I let her make one simple decision, since my confusion was based upon a possible future decision of hers."

"And that decision was?"

"To be Slytherin or not to be Slytherin."

"Her entire family is Slytherin!" exclaimed Dumbledore, "Have been for generations. How could she have chosen to go against everything she must have been taught?"

"Indeed," said the hat. "Initially she was concerned by that, but I reassured her that her family would never know it was her decision – I hope I can trust you, Albus?"

"Of course."

"Then she decided to, as she phrased it 'try a different path'. So I was left with only three houses to choose from."

"Why Gryffindor?"

"I don't know. It seemed a brave decision to go against her family, even if it wasn't done openly. And then the future, well…although it was only a confusing glimpse it had an atmosphere of love and courage. After all, it is our decisions that make us who we truly are."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully at this.

The hat smirked, "Then again, the thought of placing such an enigma in your house was the deciding factor. The appeal of adding more trouble to your life was almost irresistible."

Dumbledore grinned, "Have you ever considered where you would sort yourself?"

"No, I could not belong to any one house," the hat smirked again, "I am greater than all."

"Slytherin," said Dumbledore his eyes twinkling, "You would definitely belong in Slytherin."

"Get out," growled the hat in mock fury, "Take your pathetic muggle sweets and leave. Slytherin! Sometimes Albus Dumbledore…"

Dumbledore laughed, "I thought you were completely unbiased; no house liked or disliked more than any other."

"That is true," replied the hat dignifiedly.

"Then why so angry at my suggestion?"

"I may not be biased but _you_ are, Albus Dumbledore. I know enough about house rivalries to know that when the Head of Gryffindor accuses me of being a Slytherin he is not intending it to be complimentary."

Dumbledore grinned, "I have nothing but respect for my Slytherin colleagues."

"Of course," said the hat, "But that will have to _actually_ be the truth when you are headmaster."

"What makes you think I will ever be Headmaster?"

The hat smirked "I have my own ideas on what the future will hold…and I wouldn't be surprised if your future was intertwined with that of the Slytherin turned Gryffindor currently residing in your house."

"You think mine and Miss McGonagall's futures are linked?"

"I feel they are, and yet…how I cannot see."

Dumbledore looked directly at the hat. "Are you concealing anything from me?" he demanded.

"No," the hat replied, "Not on a matter this important. Perhaps you should speak with Professor Caset."

Dumbledore nodded, and agreed that he would consult the Divination Professor as soon as possible.

**I hope you liked this chapter! Personally I really enjoyed writing it and giving the sorting hat a personality, as well as a friendship with Dumbledore :-)**

**Please tell me what you thought by simply pressing the little button below! Thanks :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I'm sorry I took a while to update but I will be adding a few new chapters now and trying to update more regularly now I've sorted out all of the details in my mind. **

**Please please keep reading and reviewing :-)**

Minerva held the memory for a second, seeing the astonished look on the faces of some of her audience.

"Your family were all in Slytherin?" demanded Ron.

"Yes," McGonagall sighed, "The McGonagalls were in Slytherin for generations, I was the first to be sorted into a different house since the 16th century."

"What about your family now, Professor?" Hermione asked shyly, "Do you still have relatives in Slytherin."

McGonagall shook her head, "No, Hermione," she answered honestly, "I have no relatives at all," she paused briefly, "I am the last of the McGonagalls."

"What happened to them all?" asked Ron eagerly, ignoring the pointed looks he received from both his mother and Hermione.

"They chose to join the darkest wizards," she answered emotionlessly, "And they were all killed eventually."

Nobody knew how to answer that and, in an attempt to break the silence, McGonagall turned to a thoughtful looking Harry beside her.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" she asked, more gently than her usual tone.

He nodded, "Its just," he took a deep breath, "Well, when I first – when I was sorted I asked the hat not to put me in Slytherin and it didn't. But then in the second year I thought…after everything and being able to talk to snakes maybe it should have; but Dumbledore, Dumbledore said something like what the hat told him, about our choices making us who we are."

McGonagall nodded, "Dumbledore and the Sorting hat are good friends, and he is always happy to follow its advice. The hat is very wise, as is Dumbledore. And, well," her mouth twitched slightly, "Both of them fail to demonstrate their wisdom much of the time and instead behave like complete children! It is little wonder that they enjoy each others company."

Many occupants of the room smirked at this and the Weasley twins grinned thoughtfully at each other, wondering how difficult it would be to get an interview with the apparently mischievous Sorting hat.

It was Mrs Weasley who brought the focus back to the story.

"It must have been very difficult for you, Minerva," she said gently, "Being sorted so – so differently from your family."

McGonagall sighed, "Well, my parents were furious, they made that clear with the correspondence they sent me."

"And at school?" Molly Weasley pressed kindly.

"It was as Headmaster Dippet predicted at the start," McGonagall said, with a hint of sadness in her voice. "The Gryffindors considered me a Slytherin, and Slytherins considered me a Gryffindor."

"You must have been lonely."

"For a time," she sighed, "But I had Albus watching over me at least."

"Watching over you?" queried Molly.

McGonagall nodded and prodded the depths of the pensieve once more.


	7. Chapter 7

Albus Dumbledore entered the transfiguration classroom and was surprised to see one of his first students already there. She was sitting at the very front, quill and parchment on her desk, completely focussed on the transfiguration book she was reading.

"Miss McGonagall?" he said gently.

No response.

He walked over and stood in front of her desk, "Miss McGonagall?" he repeated.

She looked up from the book, "Professor, I'm sorry, were you speaking to me?"

He was surprised by the confidence in her voice. She was sitting waiting for the first class of her first year and yet she did not seem at all nervous.

"I was just going to commend you on your early arrival and apparent enthusiasm," he answered, smiling and indicating the book.

Her deep dark eyes stared at him for a moment, "Thank you," she said, with the same calm confidence, "And thank you for…" her voice trailed off.

"What, Miss McGonagall?"

"Yesterday," she paused, "In the Great Hall, for – well, it was awkward."

He realised she was referring to his applause which had broken the uncomfortable silence following her sorting.

"My pleasure, Miss McGonagall. I am honoured to have you in Gryffindor house, I'm sure you will be an asset to us."

She smiled slightly, "Thank you, Professor," and then returned to her book.

Shortly afterwards the rest of the class arrived. It was a first year class comprised of Gryffindors and Slytherins, and this would be their first transfiguration lesson.

As they entered the room, the students glanced at the girl sitting at the front, before taking their seats, carefully avoiding her.

Dumbledore watched the girl quietly reading her book without even glancing up as the students entered and avoided her. He thought maybe she hadn't noticed them, or perhaps she just didn't care.

He welcomed the students with a short speech on the nature of transfiguration, before beginning the lesson. He always made the first lesson a practical one, despite the students' lack of knowledge and experience. He knew they were all excited and wanted to do magic as quickly as possible, not learn the theory behind it.

"Today," he said, reaching for a box, "We will attempt to transfigure matches into needles." He placed the match box in front of Minerva. "Take a match each and follow the instructions on the board, you may work together."

Dumbledore waved his wand and a series of complex instructions appeared. Minerva took her match and passed the box to students behind her. Soon, everyone had a match and the room was filled with the sounds of people muttering spells and discussing the task with their friends.

Dumbledore walked around, listening to students and offering advice. He felt some sympathy for the girl at the front of his class, sitting alone with nobody to talk with. From behind, he watched her wave her wand and mutter something a couple of times. She then laid her wand down on the desk and returned her attention to the transfiguration textbook.

"Given up, Miss McGonagall?" he inquired, concerned.

She looked up at him and held out the needle in response. He took it and inspected it with a smile.

"Perfect," he told her, "Five points to Gryffindor."

A small smile played with her face and, to Dumbledore's relief, she remained focussed on him and did not turn to see the scowls behind her.

"Would you like to try something else?" he asked her gently.

She nodded eagerly and he gave her a few more challenging tasks, most of which she achieved easily, but he eventually found something more difficult. He left her working with a very furry goblet and went to check on the rest of the room, some of whom were now achieving slightly less wooden needles.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that day Dumbledore finally found the opportunity to speak with Professor Caset in the staffroom, shortly before they went to the Great Hall for dinner.

"I need to ask you something," Dumbledore explained.

"What?"

"Have you _seen_ anything relating to the future of Minerva McGonagall?"

"Minerva McGonagall? The girl who got sorted from Slytherin to Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"No," Caset paused, "Why do you ask?"

"The Sorting hat felt that our futures were in some way connected."

"Then they probably are. I would never doubt the Sorting hat."

"I was hoping," Dumbledore sighed, "That you might be able to provide something more understandable."

"Sorry," Caset shook his head, "But then I've never met the girl properly. I suppose I could ask her to have a cup of tea with me and read the leaves if you want?"

"No, its okay, but thank you for the offer."

Caset merely shrugged and suggested they head to the Great Hall.

After dinner Dumbledore sat in his office, still thinking about the young McGonagall in his house and wondering what the hat's words would come to mean. Finally, he decided to visit the Gryffindor common room and check on his students, not least Minerva McGonagall.

As he stepped through the portrait hole he saw the Gryffindor common room in its usual chaotic state. Some students were struggling to work whilst others played games or simply sat talking in front of the fire. He moved amongst them for a while, talking particularly to the first year students, and offering his precious sherbet lemons to all.

Eventually he came to the small table where Minerva sat, a stack of books and completed homework assignments beside her. She was playing chess alone, and as he watched he saw the black pieces, her opposition, move of their own accord, however she soon had them in checkmate.

She waved her wand and all of the pieces returned to their original places for the start of the game. She then looked up at Dumbledore with big, deep inquiring green eyes.

"Where did you get a chess set like that?" he asked.

"It's just an ordinary wizards chess set," she answered.

"Then how do the pieces -"

"I taught them," she answered, "Unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately?" he asked, while pondering the level of magic involved in making chess pieces respond of their own accord.

"Because I know what they know," she said, "And I can always tell what they are going to do. It makes them very poor opposition."

"You should try human opposition," he laughed, "Much less predictable."

She turned to the rest of the common room, looking around it with lonely eyes, before returning her gaze to him with a small, emotionless laugh.

"If you can find me some opposition, then I will gladly play them."

"Play me," he said suddenly.

Her expression was filled with curiosity.

"After dinner tomorrow," he told her, "Bring your chess set to my classroom."

She nodded her agreement and, to his delight, gave him a rare smile; maybe she would be okay at Hogwarts after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews - its so encouraging to read your comments.**

**BansheeGirl: I promise their will be some ADMM romance but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait a while before the story reaches that point!**

**For now...hereare the next two chapters.Enjoy (I hope)!  
**

The following evening Minerva slipped into the transfiguration classroom, carrying her chess set.

"Good evening, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Good evening, Professor," she replied.

"Pull up a chair," he invited her with a gesture, "And set out the board. I will arrange us some refreshment. Do you like hot chocolate?"

"I don't know, Professor, I've never tried it."

"You must," he exclaimed, "Its wonderful! I have a bit of a sweet tooth, you know."

He was rewarded with another of her rare smiles and hastily prepared the drink before turning to press it into her hands. She sipped cautiously and settled in her chair, ready for the game.

* * *

"Playing chess with Albus became a regular pastime of mine," Professor McGonagall explained with a small smile. "We played almost every evening, often until after I should have returned to Gryffindor tower. Luckily, Albus gave me a small pot of floo powder and permission to floo between the fireplace in his office and the Gryffindor common room, as long as nobody else noticed of course." 

Arthur Weasley smiled, "I'm sure Dumbledore always sees the rules more as things to take into consideration when making decisions than actually things to be adhered to."

"He does," sighed Minerva, "Honestly, you should try working closely with the man; he's such a child at times."

The other occupants of the room exchanged smiles and laughter at this, many of them knowing of McGonagall's frequent frustration with the man, and those who had already heard the story, knowing something more.

"Were they always like that to you, Professor?" asked Hermione softly, "The other students I mean."

"No, they came to accept me in time. Not really in my first year but, in my second year I began to find friends in Gryffindor."

Molly interrupted her with another question, her voice filled with concern.

"What about your family, dear?" she asked gently, "Did they eventually accept it?"

McGonagall shook her head, and for a minute Hermione, who was sitting closest, felt certain she saw tears in McGonagall's eyes.

"They made their feelings clear when I returned home in the summer," she answered softly and poked the pensieve once more.


	10. Chapter 10

Minerva sat alone in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, reading an advanced transfiguration textbook. She'd always had a fondness for the subject and her growing friendship with her transfiguration professor only made her more eager to excel in the subject; and everything else really. She wanted to be exactly what he'd said, an asset to Gryffindor, to his house.

The door of the compartment stood open and two boys stood there, one in his fifth year, and one in his sixth.

"All alone," snarled Valerius, the fifth year.

Minerva glanced up at her brothers and then returned her gaze to her book before replying.

"Unless there are some invisible people, whose presence I am unaware of."

"Dad's going to hate you, you know," Valerius continued, "You're a Gryffindor."

Her eldest brother, Rex, joined in, "Dad said you're no longer part of the family. Especially now he knows you've been playing chess with that muggle – lover. He says you're no better than a house elf."

"Then why are you wasting your time talking to me," she inquired.

Her brothers sneered and turned to leave.

"I'd watch out when we get home, Minnie," Rex hissed as he closed the door behind them, "You're not going to have a good summer."

She ignored him and pretended to keep reading, secretly dreading the moment the train would pull up at platform 9¾ and she would be forced to spend two weeks in London with her family. She knew those weeks would be even worse than the rest of the holiday spent at their mansion in Scotland, at least there she could disappear into the grounds.

When the train pulled into the platform Minerva moved very slowly to get off, and was one of the last to leave. Fearfully she made her way over to where her parents and brothers stood, wondering what on earth had possessed her when deciding not to be placed in Slytherin.

None of her family said a word to her as she approached them, they simply turned to leave. It wasn't until they arrived at the small inn, close to the Ministry of Magic, where they would be staying and prepared to go and unpack in their rooms that her father spoke to her.

"Stay here," he commanded, "I want to speak with you whilst the others unpack."

Minerva remained standing beside him as her brothers and her mother left the room.

"I think you understand, Minerva, how disappointed I am by your Sorting."

She nodded.

"I might have been able to accept the Sorting hat's change of decision as a mistake," he growled, "But now I hear you've been having late night meetings with Albus Dumbledore – playing chess with the dammed fool."

Minerva remained silent.

"Is it true?" her father demanded.

She had never felt less like a courageous Gryffindor, still, she nodded.

He grabbed her by the neck of her robes and pushed her against the solid wall behind her.

"You are no daughter of mine," he growled at her, "You have brought disgrace to your family name. I will not forget this, Minerva."

She stared at him fearfully, wondering what he would do. He produced his wand and muttered a curse under his breath. She immediately felt a sudden surge of pain, bringing tears to her eyes.

"You will learn to bring honour to your family, Minerva," he hissed, "I will not have my own daughter disobeying me. Do you understand?"

She nodded, the tears slowly trickling down her cheeks. He relinquished his hold on her and she sank to the floor.

"Unpack your trunk here," he ordered her, "You will keep only what items I deem necessary and you will not contact that muggle-loving fool over the summer. Once you return to school, you will also avoid all possible association with him. Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded, trembling slightly and fumbled with the catch on her trunk before opening it and beginning to lay out her possessions for her father's inspection.

* * *

It was Remus Lupin who paused the story this time, reaching out with his wand and holding the string whilst looking concernedly at Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva?" he said gently.

The other occupants of the room turned to look at the transfiguration professor. Her face was very pale and she was biting her lip, apparently in an effort to hold back her tears.

Molly Weasley stood and moved carefully across the room to take a seat beside the older woman and tenderly place an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you alright, Minerva?" she asked gently.

McGonagall shook herself out of her reverie and glanced around the room.

"I'm fine," she said in a perfectly controlled voice, leaning forwards towards the pensieve and in doing so, moving away from Molly Weasley's arm. "Shall we continue?"

The other occupants of the room glanced at each other warily, a little concerned for McGonagall and how she felt about this telling of her story.

However, Alastor Moody gave a nod and grunted, slightly more gruffly than usual, "Go on then, Minerva, we don't have all day and we have a lot to get through. Albus is a sentimental old fool when it comes to stories, never tells you anything quickly if he can make a long drawn out tale of it."

The uncomfortable silence in the room was mostly broken by Moody's comments, although Harry continued to stare at McGonagall, comparing his own unpleasant childhood to hers.

"Very well," said McGonagall curtly, reaching back into the pensieve with her wand. "I spent the first two weeks of that summer in London with my parents. It was," she paused, "Difficult. My father was at the Ministry much of the time, but whenever he was home he made his disapproval and anger clear and I had little opportunity to avoid him."

She took a deep breath and Molly patted her shoulder gently before she continued. "After that, we returned to our manor in Scotland, where I spent the rest of the holiday."


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you once again to all of the wonderful people who have reviewed!**

**I have written quite a bit more of this story now and so hope to have a few updates over the next few days. For now there are a few chapters for you to read (my apologies to those waiting for some ADMM, I'm afraid you still have many chapters to wait - for some romance - although their relationship is a pivotal aspect of the story!)**

**Anyway...please please R&R!**

**sheepygirl**

* * *

Minerva watched nervously as her father prepared an upstairs room in their manor for a meeting. Once everything was organised he turned to her and scowled slightly.

"You will stay outside until you're called back in, but you will no leave the grounds." He told her firmly, "And you will not mention this to anyone," he waved his wand over her, muttering something, "If you do, I will know."

She nodded and obediently slipped outside into the grounds. She didn't really mind being sent outside, she felt safer out here, away from the rest of her family. Also, although her father had confiscated almost all of her possessions, he had not yet thought to ban her from entering the broom shed, perhaps because he himself had never been a keen flier. However, for Minerva this was the only pleasure in her holiday, the knowledge that she could mount her broom and fly around the grounds, leaving all of her cares behind her.

Minerva flew for a while, before daring to fly closer to the upstairs window and get a look in at the meeting. She was shocked by Grindelwald's presence in her father's home. Panicking slightly, only one thought entered her mind, she had to tell Professor Dumbledore.

Minerva flew her broom upwards, towards the room at the top of the house, hoping all of her family were too busy with the meeting to notice. She entered the window silently and, calling an owl over, scribbled a tiny note on a piece of parchment:

_Professor, my family working with Grindelwald. He's here now. Minerva McGonagall_

However, she'd forgotten her father's warning not to tell anyone of the meeting, and as she completed the note she felt herself falling unconscious. She knew she could not allow him to find the note and struggled to give it to the owl, managing to gasp, "Dumbledore, Hogwarts," before collapsing.

* * *

Minerva woke in her room and glanced across at the clock to check the time, 7am. She jumped out of bed, her parents would expect her to be preparing the family's breakfast.

She ran down the stairs and encountered her father who looked up at her with fury in his eyes, "Try to avoid causing your family anymore trouble," he said coldly as he walked past.

Minerva sighed; she wished he could forgive her for being sorted into Gryffindor, but it was beginning to seem unlikely.

While she was preparing breakfast she heard the wards signal a someone's approach and her father opening the door. Hearing the official announcement of Ministry personnel entering she moved closer to the door to listen and heard snippets of the conversation.

"Inquiry – Grindelwald – need your help – thank you, sir."

Her father pushed open the door and she leapt back to avoid being seen.

"Tell your mother I've had to go into work," he instructed her, "And that I'll be back when I can. And you stay inside and stay out of trouble."

She nodded, "Yes, father," she whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

"Did they arrest him?" demanded Ron excitedly.

"No," McGonagall sighed, "My letter never arrived."

"But surely you sent another or told them or something…" said Harry desperately.

McGonagall looked down at the floor beneath her feet and shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Her father obliviated her memory," Lupin said softly. "She didn't remember the incident until much later, when the sight of Grindelwald triggered the memory. Isn't that right, Minerva?"

The witch nodded softly.

"Let's just continue shall we."

There were nods and murmurs of assent from around the room. Seeing this, she continued with the story.

"My second year was much improved compared to my first, mostly, it has to be said, due to Quidditch."

"Quidditch?" exclaimed Ron eagerly, "Did you play?"

"Yes I did, Mr Weasley," she answered with a smile and prodded the pensieve once more.

* * *

Minerva flooed directly into Dumbledore's office and glanced around the room. Seeing he was not there she placed the chess set on a table and conjured up two mugs of hot chocolate, before taking a seat to wait for his return.

Dumbledore smiled as he entered his office a short while later to find his favourite student curled up in one of his armchairs with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a transfiguration book in the other, and a chess set laid out in front of her.

"Good evening, Minerva."

"Good evening, Professor," she smiled.

He took his seat and they began the game, talking throughout.

"How was your holiday, Minerva?"

"It wasn't very enjoyable actually, sir."

"Your family were not pleased with you being sorted into Gryffindor?"

"No," Minerva looked away from Dumbledore's concerned gaze.

"May I ask how they expressed their displeasure?"

Minerva struggled, uncertain of how much to say.

"They were not very welcoming," she answered, "And their attitude to me made their feelings clear."

Dumbledore nodded, apparently satisfied, however he said, "If ever there was anything concerning or upsetting you, Minerva, I hope you know you can always speak to me."

She nodded, "Yes. Thank you, Professor."

With his next move he changed the subject.

"I saw you flying yesterday."

She smiled slightly, flying always made her feel better.

"You are very good," he told her warmly.

"Thank you," she answered.

"You should play Quidditch."

Recalling the way he had volunteered himself as a chess opponent the previous year, she looked up with a mischievous smile and said, "Are you volunteering to play with me, Professor? Becoming bored of chess?"

He laughed, "No, Minerva, chess is the best game for me; I'm far too old to be playing Quidditch. But you could always play with the Gryffindor team, they are looking for a chaser and a beater this year."

"I would never get on the team."

"You're very good, Minerva; easily better than anyone else who will try out."

"My skill is irrelevant, Professor, the fact is they hate me. They would never want me on their team."

"Ahh," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "You underestimate the Quidditch drive, my dear, they would do almost anything for victory."

In a way Minerva was relieved that his argument was a logical one and not an attempt to deny her assertion that she was hated by her fellow Gryffindors. She was pleased that he did not try to comfort her with lies; perhaps he understood that Minerva McGonagall would always rather have the truth, whatever.

"When are they holding tryouts?" she asked, trying to sound casual, not too eager.

"Wednesday," he told her calmly, "I'll tell Wilkins to expect you."


	13. Chapter 13

On Wednesday evening, Minerva found herself standing on the side of the Quidditch pitch watching the Gryffindor team and a number of eager potential beaters flying around. Minerva was hoping to make the chaser position and so was waiting patiently whilst the team sought a beater. Around her, Gryffindor students chattered excitedly to each other, but none spoke to her, not that she expected them to.

Finally,fourth year, William Bones was selected for the beater position and the chaser tryouts began. Minerva watched as Peter Wilkins, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, called each prospective chaser in turn to demonstrate their ability to fly and score.

Eventually he called, "McGonagall" and she stepped forward. Immediately a silence filled the Quidditch pitch, followed by a low murmuring as the gathered students watched her mount her broom and begin.

The truth was Minerva was by far the best potential chaser who had come. She controlled her broom well in flight; skilfully avoiding bludgers and managing some amazing dives to catch the quaffle or outmanoeuvre opposing chasers. She also had a good aim with the quaffle and could through a powerful shot through the hoops from a considerable distance. Wilkins knew, as soon as he saw her fly; that he had to have her on his team. He didn't care how unpopular she was, the Quidditch Cup was his goal and he knew she could help the Gryffindor team get his hands on it. So, when Minerva left the Quidditch pitch later that evening and headed for her chess match with Dumbledore, she was no more popular but she had a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

* * *

The first Quidditch game of the year was a fierce one, Gryffindor against Slytherin. Minerva was nervous, knowing she was playing with the hatred of the Slytherins and without the real support of the Gryffindors. Her feelings were not helped by a brief conversation in the Great Hall with her brother, Valerius, a beater on the Slytherin team.

"You know this isn't about the match, don't you, Min?"

"What?" she sighed, trying to sound impatient.

"This is about Slytherin getting revenge on a certain traitor," he smiled cruelly, "I'm going to make sure a bludger smashes your head in."

She laughed and replied, far more confidently than she felt, "Not if some talent as a beater is required."

He smirked, "See you on the pitch," and stalked off to the Slytherin table.

Wilkins replaced him in front of Minerva, "What did your brother want?" he asked.

"To make threats about the match," she answered softly.

"Ignore him," growled Wilkins, "Just concentrate on scoring lots of goals for Gryffindor."

He gave her a warm smile and she returned it, thrilled at getting some sort of friendly gesture from a fellow student.

After breakfast, Wilkins walked with her to the Quidditch pitch, eagerly discussing tactics. He was a beater and promised her that he would make sure the bludgers kept away from her, provided she scored plenty of goals. He asked her how she'd feel about staying up the Slytherin end of the pitch, waiting for Gryffindor passes and then flying the quaffle through the Slytherins to the goal.

"Its quite a dangerous tactic," he explained, "The Slytherins will probably start trying to kill you. But if it works, it can be very effective."

She nodded and gave him a small smile, "I'll try it," she answered.

"Great! I'll tell the others, make sure they know the plan."

Soon, they were all in the air, and the quaffle was flying amongst them. The three chasers worked well together, whatever Kim and Paul might think of her off the pitch, on it they were a team. Kim tended to stay near the Gryffindor hoops, backing up the keeper and intercepting poor Slytherin passes nearby. Paul tended to fly around the front and middle of the pitch; he lacked the flying ability of the other two, but was able to make incredibly quick and accurate passes, getting the quaffle to his team-mates faster than the Slytherins could react. Minerva remained at the front, catching the quaffle and weaving in and out of opponents towards the hoops, or passing to Paul so that he could score.

Soon the score was 170-30 to Gryffindor and Minerva caught a powerful but accurate pass from Paul and began shooting towards the hoops, seeking her fifteenth goal of the match. The Gryffindor crowd had forgotten their dislike and suspicion of her and began to cheer enthusiastically as Minerva charged into a dive, avoiding the Slytherin chaser before her. Quickly, she pulled out of the dive as a bludger threatened her path and smiled in relief as Wilkins came to her defence, protecting her as promised. She shot upwards, towards the hoops and as she passed the left one, shot for the right. The keeper was completely confused and the quaffle soared through the hoop, making the score 180-30 and giving Gryffindor a 150 point lead. The Gryffindor crowd roared, but quickly the focus changed. Above the Slytherin hoops, the Slytherin seeker was closing in on the snitch and the Gryffindor seeker was at the end of the pitch, racing across but not quickly enough. The Slytherins would now accept a draw, but Gryffindor wouldn't. Minerva pulled on her broom, shooting upwards towards the snitch and Slytherin seeker.

"She can't catch it," someone in the Gryffindor crowd exclaimed in concern, "She's a chaser."

Everyone stared as Minerva shot upwards and turned sharply, heading not towards the snitch, but towards the Slytherin seeker, until she was hovering above him.

"What's she doing?"

Minerva suddenly pointed her broom downwards and went into an incredibly fast corkscrew motion, circling the seeker as she fell. He stared, disconcerted and lost his focus.

"THE SNITCH, YOU IDIOT!" roared a Slytherin voice, and the seeker charged forward again. However, now the snitch was halfway across the pitch and the Gryffindor seeker was closer. He reached out his hand and urged his broom onward as his fingers scraped the edge of the golden ball and closed around it.

"YES!"

The Gryffindor seeker landed. He held up his hand, the snitch grasped tightly, and the whistle blew. Minerva descended to the pitch, thrilled at their victory, only to be hugged tightly by Wilkins and then the rest of the team. It was the happiest she'd been at Hogwarts so far, and watching her, Dumbledore knew it. She was now definitely part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the team which had defeated Slytherin for the first time in over a decade, and if that didn't get her accepted as a Gryffindor, nothing would.

* * *

"WOW!" exclaimed Ron, "That was amazing. That spiral thingy -"

"Corkscrew," McGonagall corrected.

"Corkscrew," he repeated. "Can you tell me how to do it?"

Harry and the other Weasleys were also regarding McGonagall with astonishment, and possibly even a bit more respect, after seeing her Quidditch performance.

"Perhaps I will show you when you return to school, Mr Weasley," McGonagall replied with a smile.

"WOW!" Ron gasped, "Would you? That would -"

"Ron," said Mrs Weasley warningly. "I think you should let Professor McGonagall continue."

Moody grunted his assent, "Don't have all day," he commented, "And Dumbledore'll be back soon, Minerva, we'll sort everything then."

She nodded, "Very well. We are going to move to my third year. My second passed much more happily than my first and nothing of interest to this tale really occurred. However, in my third year, certain things took place, which began … everything."


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks to all who have reviewed :-)**

**A couple more chapters for you wonderful people!**

* * *

Thirteen year old Minerva McGonagall sat calmly in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express with her two best friends, fifth years, William Bones and Kim McKinnon, sharing sweets from the trolley.

Suddenly they heard a thud outside the compartment and the sound of mocking laughter.

"Stupid mudbloods," a voice hissed.

The three friends exchanged glances and leapt up, pulling the doors to their compartment open. Outside, they discovered a group of fifth year Slytherins attacking a group of second years.

"Malfoy," growled William, at the ringlead of the Slytherins, "Leave them alone."

Malfoy laughed "Are you going to make me, Bones?"

William produced his wand and beside him Minerva and Kim did the same.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Malfoy, wand aimed at William.

As William's wand flew towards Malfoy, Minerva softly murmured, "Virgawasi."

The wand immediately returned to William's hand.

"You're a filthy blood traitor, McGonagall," Malfoy hissed his eyes filled with rage.

Minerva simply tossed her long dark hair dismissively and sighed, "You really are pathetic, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised his wand again, and Minerva and William did the same in response.

"No duelling on the train," said a stern voice, "You wouldn't want to be in detention before you even reach school."

They all lowered their wands and as Malfoy turned to walk away the three Gryffindors headed back into their compartment.

"Tremocrur!" yelled Malfoy over his shoulder before running away down the train.

Kim's legs gave way beneath her and began to tremble uncontrollably, much to the amusement of a couple of Slytherins still standing outside the compartment.

"Finite incantatem," said William.

Kim's legs recovered and Minerva helped her to her feet and back inside, whilst Minerva slammed the door to their compartment shut.

Later the trio walked into the Great Hall together and Kim eagerly commented, "I can't wait for Hogsmeade trips.You can come this year, Min, so we'll be able to show you everything."

Minerva's face fell but both William and Kim failed to notice as William whispered, "First one to hex Mansur Malfoy gets all their Honeydukes supplies and butterbeer bought by the others for the rest of the term."

Kim shook her head as she giggled, "William Bones," she said in a falsely stern voice, "You should know better than to challenge Min like that."

William just grinned, "He's in our year, Kim. We have classes with him. Something tells me one of us will get him first!"

Minerva turned to William and murmured quite seriously, "Not if I get him tonight."

He laughed as they sat down, "You won't. Even you wouldn't try it in the Great Hall."

Minerva merely raised her eyebrows and gazed at the Slytherin table where Mansur Malfoy was taking his seat. Malfoy was talking enthusiastically with his friends and had produced his wand, obviously intending to demonstrate some spell.

Minerva produced her own and held it carefully under the table.

"Mobilivirga," she muttered.

The wand flew out of Malfoy's hand and drifted lazily around his head. He tried to grab at it as William and Kim struggled to conceal their laughter.

"Evanesco," Minerva murmured.

Malfoy's wand suddenly disappeared. He looked all around him in confusion and then turned to stare angrily at the Gryffindor table, where Minerva was carefully replacing her wand in her pocket whilst William and Kim could no longer contain their laughter and were giggling uncontrollably.

"You win, Minnie," William said delightedly.

"I can't believe you did that!" exclaimed Kim, "Across the Great Hall with all the teachers in here."

Minerva glanced towards the staff table and her eyes met Dumbledore's. A small smile played with his lips and he shook his head slightly at her before muttering something under his breath. Malfoy's wand reappeared on the table beside him. Minerva smiled back at Dumbledore and nodded slowly before turning her attention to the sorting.

The first years had now entered and the time had come for the sorting ceremony. The sorting passed as usual, Minerva cheered with the rest of her house for each new Gryffindor she received. However, the student she remembered most in the sorting was not a Gryffindor.

"Riddle, Tom," the deputy headmaster called.

The boy stepped up to the stool proudly, and with no hint of nervousness. As he sat down his confident green eyes surveyed the Great Hall, and at one point gazed directly into hers. She held his gaze determinedly, and was relieved she had when the boy was sorted into Slytherin. She would never show weakness in front of a Slytherin, even if he was only a first year.

**For anyone who is interested...most of the spells I mention are taken from HP lexicon or variants of those from HP lexicon. The ones I have created, along with the elements that vary have been made using an online latin dictionary (why is it that latin sounds so magical!)**

**Anyway...please R&R**


	15. Chapter 15

"So I guess we're buying all your sweets this term," William said once the sorting was over.

Minerva sighed, "You'll have to buy them without me," she muttered miserably.

"Why?"

"I can't come. My parents wouldn't sign the form."

"Why not?" demanded William, ignoring Kim's warning looks, "They let Valerius."

Minerva suddenly became focussed upon her empty plate as she replied softly, "They hate me, William. I'm lucky they let me come to Hogwarts at all."

"Minerva," Kim said gently, putting an arm around her friend.

"They hate the fact that I got sorted into Gryffindor and spending time with Dumbledore, it just makes them angrier. They said I've betrayed my family."

"I'm sorry, Min," murmured William softly.

Minerva felt the tears pricking behind her eyes. "Its okay, forget it. I don't want to talk about my family, Gryffindor is my family. I just want to forget about them and the summer – I belong here."

Kim looked into her face concernedly and with horror in her voice suddenly asked, "They don't, you know – hurt you, do they, Min?"

Minerva didn't answer for a while and then shook her head softly. "Not really," she answered, "My father cursed me a couple of times," she bit her lip, "It hurt but it-it was nothing serious."

William and Kim exchanged horrified glances and Kim wrapped her arms around her friend tightly. Minerva was shaking slightly, attempting to hold back her tears. William looked to the staff table and caught Dumbledore's eye before nodding slightly to Minerva.

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked quickly through the Great Hall towards them. Reaching them he softly murmured, "Miss McGonagall, would you come with me, please?"

Biting back her tears she got to her feet and followed him obediently from the Great Hall to his office. He signalled for her to take a seat and she did so, all the while keeping her eyes focussed on the floor beneath her.

"Are you okay, Miss McGonagall?"

She nodded silently.

"You didn't seem okay in the Great Hall," Dumbledore pressed her gently, "Would you like to talk about it?"

She shook her dark head.

"Please," he said softly.

She didn't reply and he allowed the silence to continue between them.

Finally she took a deep breath, "I was talking about my family," she sighed.

"Your father hasn't reacted well to your placement in Gryffindor?"

She shook her head.

"Nor to your friendship with me?"

She looked up at him in surprise.

"Headmaster Dippet received a letter from your father. He requested that I avoid all contact with you outside of classes unless I wish to be removed by the Governors."

"The Governors always listen to father and Mr Malfoy."

"I don't care," he told her softly, "If you want to continue our meetings and chess games we shall."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with emotion, "I don't want you to lose your job or anything because of me."

"Don't worry about me," he answered, "I will take care of my life."

She looked at him silently for a moment and then nodded.

"It is you I am concerned for, Minerva. I hope your father's anger has not manifested itself unpleasantly towards you."

Once again she gazed at the floor and a silence fell between them.

"Minerva?" he queried gently.

"There's a curse," she whispered, "Doleo."

He stared at her for a moment and then got up from his own chair and went to her side. Tenderly he pulled the trembling girl into his arms and held her tightly.

"It causes pain," he said in a slightly less controlled voice. "Your father uses it on you?"

A tear rolled down her cheek as she answered honestly, "Occasionally. If he is very angry."

He held her whilst she cried quietly into his robes. Quickly her tears stopped, and he was not surprised. Minerva prided herself on being a strong person and he knew she would consider her tears a display of weakness.

Standing up he looked kindly at the girl still seated in front of him.

"I will speak to Headmaster Dippet," he told her softly, "I presume you will be staying here as usual for Christmas and Easter, but hopefully we can also prevent you having to return home in the summer."

She got to her feet, "Thank you, Professor," she managed in a calm, controlled voice. "I think I can hear people leaving the Great Hall so I suppose should head to the Gryffindor tower now."

He nodded but as she reached the door he called her name and she turned to look at him questioningly.

"Chess tomorrow evening?"

She smiled, "Of course."

**Once again...pleeeease review...you know you want to:-)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everyone and thanksto those whoreviewed:**

**alix33 - well, Dumbledore's actions could be seen as unethical I suppose, but he's Dumbledore so we know he's just trying to help. Also the age difference between the two is80 years! (but I imagine thats lesssignificant a difference in the wizarding world)**

**BansheeGirl - I promise I will keep writing...I know where this story is going and am determined to finish eventually although it will, as you say, be quite long!**

**Big thank yous to all you wonderful people who were so complementary - your encouragement isone of the major factors in this story continuing!**

**Now...on with the tale (and a most important chapter):-)**

The memory faded abruptly and Minerva McGonagall got to her feet.

"Minerva?" asked Molly in concern.

"Sit down, Minerva," growled Alastor, "We've still got a lot to get through, and they need to understand."

McGonagall sighed.

"Could you continue without me for a moment?" she said in a hard voice, that was little more than a whisper.

Lupin stood up, "I'm sure they can," he answered.

"They?" queried McGonagall.

"I'll come with you."

"No thank you, Remus."

"Minerva -"

"I am quite alright by myself, Remus."

He nodded and sat back down whilst she slipped out of the room.

"Right," said Moody, determined to continue.

* * *

Minerva hurried into her first divination lesson, and as with all of her other classes, was the first to arrive. She took her seat and retrieved her textbook, parchment and quill, whilst waiting for the rest of her class to arrive.

Professor Caset smiled at her, "Minerva McGonagall?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor. How did you know?" she asked eagerly, "Divination."

"I'm afraid not, my dear," Caset smiled softly, "The truth, divination is a difficult thing to control, I cannot pick what I see, or even if I see. However, I have heard rumours about you; your enthusiasm and intelligence."

A small smile played with her face.

"Ah," said Caset looking up, "Here are the rest of your classmates."

The group, comprised of Gryffindors and Slytherins, filed into the room and took their seats.

"Right," said Caset loudly, still standing beside Minerva's desk, "Let us beg…" his voice trailed off and his body suddenly became rigid, whilst his deep brown eyes stared fixatedly at Minerva.

Some of the class began to whisper excitedly, "He's going to start the lesson with a prediction!"

"This is so exciting."

Caset's voice broke through the chatter, but it was different, harsh and powerful.

"You," he pointed a long thin finger at Minerva, "The Gryffindor lion will trust you, but you will betray him. He has power few can destroy – but you can. You will lead him to his doom, or else he will take all power from you."

A shocked silence filled the room as Caset blinked a few times and stared around the class.

"A prediction," he whispered to himself in realisation, "Is everyone alright?"

People immediately began nodding and chattering to each other about what had just happened. However, Minerva remained frozen in her seat, her hands shaking slightly.

"You're going to kill Dumbledore," growled a Gryffindor boy, "You are a Slytherin after all."

"Not if Dumbledore takes her power, she won't," said another, "I'm sure he will. He's stronger than her."

"Silence," ordered Caset immediately, "The prediction!" he demanded, turning to a small glass orb on his desk. He watched as his words were slowly repeated back to him and a frown creased his forehead.

"Miss McGonagall -"

"Please may I leave?" she whispered shakily.

He nodded, "Of course, but Miss -"

She was gone.

Minerva fled the divination room and headed for Gryffindor tower where she sat, silently contemplating the prophecy until her classmates entered and she quickly felt the need to escape.

She ran along to the corridor where the room of requirement stood and began to think desperately, "I need somewhere to hide, somewhere where nobody else will upset me."

The door appeared and she rushed inside, slamming it shut behind her and sank into the soft chair she found there.

* * *

"Hang on," said Fred, "So McGonagall is predicted to kill Dumbledore."

"Or him kill her," added George.

"Blimey," said Fred, "You think they'd be keeping their distance from each other wouldn't you."

"Boys," said Arthur Weasley, strangely taking on a disciplining role in his family, "This isn't funny."

"We"

"never"

"said"

"it was!"

"I honestly don't believe in the strength of a prophecy, boys," said Minerva McGonagall, framed in the doorway.

"How do you mean, Professor?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall entered and took a seat, "Its like the sorting hat and Albus have both said, our choices make us who we are."

"But if there are prophecies?"

"That suggests there are no choices" smiled McGonagall, pleased at Hermione's understanding, "But there are choices, always."

"Which means there can be no fixed path of fate or destiny?"

"Precisely," said McGonagall.

"But so many prophecies have been realised," said Hermione in confusion.

"I believe the key is our attitude to predictions, Hermione. Many prophecies are self-fulfilling; if we accept them into our lives and believe they are true, conduct our lives on the basis that they are true…"

"Then they become true," smiled Hermione, suddenly understanding.

McGonagall nodded, "Precisely. Remember that won't you?" her eyes flickered around the room, but Harry could have sworn they rested on him slightly longer than anyone else. However, he couldn't imagine why, it wasn't as though he was a strong believer in divination anyway.

* * *

**But we know why...don't we! (remember this is OOTP christmas - no prophecyfor Harry yet)**

**Please R&R**

**More chapterssoon (promise)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Once again thanks for all the reviews - its nice to know people are interested. For those of you intrigued by the prophecy...all I can say is that prophecies can be ambiguous in parts:-)**

**Anyway... here is another chapter, with apologies for the delay, I was on holiday and unfortunately unable to reach the internet but I have returned now, and hope to have more up soon!**

**Please read on and review...**

* * *

Professor Caset sat in the staff room, explaining the details of the prophecy to his colleagues. Throughout his story Dumbledore said nothing, waiting until he had finished before asking, "How did Minerva seem?" 

Dippet shook his head in frustration, "May I speak to you in my office, Albus?"

"Certainly, Headmaster."

Dumbledore followed Dippet out of the staff room and up the winding staircase to his office. He sat down in the seat opposite the Headmaster and waited for Dippet to speak.

"Albus, I must admit the contents of this prophecy disturb me."

"How exactly, Headmaster?"

Dippet sighed, "We both knew from the beginning of the girl's family, her background. They are the sort of people who could be persuaded by…you know, Grindelwald."

"Her family, Headmaster, not her."

"But the prophecy – I am concerned for your safety, Albus, as a friend I implore you to be cautious around Miss McGonagall, perhaps spend less time with her, particularly alone. She could be very dangerous to you and I do not want to see you killed."

Dumbledore shook his head, "I heard the prophecy, Armando, but you must understand that I cannot believe it. I trust Miss McGonagall. Whatever her family are, she is not. I will not judge her by her ancestors, nor by a prophecy without reason."

Dippet took a deep breath, "Albus, the sorting hat, it has some power to see the future as you may know."

Dumbledore nodded.

"It has seen that – that only one wizard can stop Grindelwald, it told me."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"You are that wizard, Albus. You are growing in power and one day you may have the chance to stop him; but only if she does not stop you first. Albus, please, if you will not consider caution for your own sake, then do so for the rest of the wizarding world – those who will be saved if you successfully challenge Grindelwald."

Dumbledore shook his head, "I cannot turn away from Miss McGonagall. She is in my house and under my care."

Dippet frowned.

"All I can say, Armando, is that I have no desire to risk my life at this moment. If I think a situation to be dangerous, then I will respond with caution."

Dippet sighed, "And with that, I suppose I must be satisfied."

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, Headmaster," he replied, "I rather think you must."

Dippet stood and made to head for the Great Hall, "Are you coming, Albus?" he inquired.

"I'd like a word with the hat if that's okay."

Dippet nodded, "Very well."

He left the room and Dumbledore moved over to stand before the sorting hat.

"I presume you were listening?"

"Of course."

"Has no one ever told you eavesdropping is rude?"

"I was not eavesdropping. I was sitting on a shelf three feet away! Did you really think I would not hear? And has no one ever told _you_, Albus Dumbledore, that insulting me is probably a good way to end any chance of a conversation?"

"Is that why you didn't tell me about Grindelwald?"

The hat was silent.

"Hat?"

"I don't like to tell people the future – I don't believe I should interfere."

"Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

"Albus," the hat sighed, "Not all futures will come to pass. Most of what I see will, in one form or another, but one can never exactly be sure when or how. And then of course, one becomes stuck with the most important question of all."

"Which is?"

"Why? Why do these things come to pass? What causes them to occur?"

"That is the most important question?"

"Of course it is; motives and reasons change everything, Albus. Think about it, say you do fight and defeat Grindelwald, for example. Dippet thinks that future is perfect, ideal – you defeat the darkest wizard of the age. But is it? Surely it depends on the reason – perhaps you do it to rid the world of evil, perhaps for love or revenge, or perhaps so that you can take his place and become the most powerful dark wizard in the world. All could have the same initial outcome, but what follows would be so different."

Albus nodded, "It is not only our choices that make us who we are…"

"It is the reasons for those choices," finished the hat.

Albus nodded, "Can you tell me? Do you know what – I mean, if I do face Grindelwald, do you know what my reason will be?"

The hat sighed deeply, "Not entirely."

"Not entirely?"

"If I tell you, it will drive you mad."

"I do not care – I must know."

"Two reasons – love and hate, but for what I cannot say."

"Love and hate?"

The hat remained silent.

"Love…that's good isn't it."

"Depends on what the love is for."

"How do you mean?"

"Would you consider love of power a good motive?"

Dumbledore was shocked, "Love of power? That is my motive?"

"I don't know – it could be. Love and hate," the hat sighed, "Could be almost anything."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, "I should go," he murmured.

"Very well – could you ask the house elves to bring up some more of that fabulous hat cleaner? The one with the cinnamon flavour – it's delicious."

Dumbledore shook his head, "You should ask them to get lemon flavour," he said popping a sherbet lemon into his mouth.

The hat almost managed to roll its eyes.

"Albus, before you go."

Dumbledore turned in the doorway.

"There is something you should know. It may help you many times in the future if you remember it."

"What?"

"Those we love and long to help will trust us far more if we show them our hearts."

Dumbledore stared, "What do you mean?"

"Just remember."

He nodded, "I will try."


	18. Chapter 18

**Okay – here I am, finally posting again after far too long. I sincerely apologise to anyone still following this story but a frighteningly busy first term at university followed by destroying my internet at home have delayed me…sorry.**

**Thank you so much to all who have reviewed – its great to get some feedback.**

**Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.**

**Now, on with the tale…**

* * *

Sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall, Dumbledore scanned the Gryffindor table for Minerva and could not help but notice her absence.

After he had finished eating he made his way over to Kim and William and paused before them.

"Have you seen Miss McGonagall?" he queried.

Kim shook her head, "Not since she left us to go to divination."

Kim and William exchanged concerned glances.

"We heard about the prophecy, Professor," ventured William, "Everyone was talking about in the Gryffindor common room. And, well, some people were quite…"

"Nasty," finished Kim uncertainly, "In their attitude to her. They, well, you're our head of house – but, Professor, Minerva wouldn't hurt anyone, especially not you."

He nodded his head calmly and left the Great Hall, knowing in an instant that she had gone looking for privacy, knowing where she had gone. He stood in the corridor where the Room of Requirement usually appeared and thought hard, "I want to find Minerva McGonagall."

Nothing happened. He shook his head, unable to understand, and then the realisation hit him. "I want to find Minerva McGonagall to help her, not to upset her."

The door appeared and he smiled, he should have known Minerva would have the sense to think of a requirement sufficient to keep potential enemies out.

"Minerva," he said softly as he pushed open the door.

She looked up from a book she was reading and her eyes gazed into his.

"Professor."

"I noticed you were not at dinner, Minerva."

"It didn't seem like a good idea."

"Because of what happened in your divination class today?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Minerva, I trust you, I hope you understand that. Prophecies are not always," he paused, "Shouldn't always be considered a correct explanation of things to come."

"How do you mean? Do prophecies come true or not?"

Dumbledore sighed, "Minerva, reasons matter, I – I want you to come with me, to see someone."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Dumbledore led Minerva towards the Headmaster's office, muttered the password, and stepped onto the staircase with her.

"Headmaster Dippet?" she asked.

"No," he replied, reaching out to open the door to Dippet's office.

As they stepped inside a voice came from the shelves, "What do you want me to tell her, Albus? That the prophecy is wrong?"

Minerva's eyes scanned the shelf, "The sorting hat," she whispered.

"I just want you to talk to her," Dumbledore replied. "I will wait on the staircase so you can speak privately."

The Hat sighed and gave a dismissive nod. Dumbledore opened the door and stepped back onto the staircase, closing the door behind him.

"Miss McGonagall," said the Hat curtly.

"Sorting Hat," she responded similarly.

After a short pause she whispered, "Should I have gone to Slytherin after all?"

"Why?"

"Because of the prophecy."

"Have you actually done anything yet?"

"No, but…"

"Well then you're being a little hasty. I told you didn't I? It all comes to a choice – your choice. The prophecy does not mean what you believe it to, not yet."

"Not yet?"

"No future is guaranteed to follow, no prophecy can be considered true until it has happened."

"But you think it will happen?"

"I think what happens will be your choice."

"I can stop it?"

"Maybe, time will tell."

"But what if I can't? What if I kill him?"

"What if it is the right thing to do?"

"What? But – how? How can it ever be the right thing to do?"

"I don't know. I don't see the future as you wish me to. I don't see what will happen because no one can see that, the future changes. I may catch a glimpse of many different futures but I can never tell you for certain what will come to pass."

"I'm afraid of myself," she whispered.

"If you try to choose what is right, you will be fine. But you must trust in your friends and you must judge people on what you know, not what you are told. There are so many liars, who would lead from truth and good to their own end, but you must stand by those you know and believe, trust in your heart, as a true Gryffindor, and it will not lead you astray."

She stared at him with confused eyes, "I will try to do what you say," she said softly, "Although I don't understand what you mean, I doubt you will explain any further."

The Hat smiled, "You are correct, I will say no more. I can only guide you from my glimpse and it is vague and uncertain. I see more the emotions that govern those involved rather than the events themselves. It is those emotions which dictate our choices and help me to understand each student and the House in which they belong."

Minerva nodded and headed for the door.

"Trust yourself," the Hat called after her in an unusually soft tone, "For now at least."

She turned in the doorway, "Thank you."

* * *

"You're Minerva McGonagall, aren't you?"

Minerva turned to look at the boy behind her. It was the Slytherin first year from the Sorting, Tom Riddle.

"Yes. Why?" Her voice was sharp; she did not trust Slytherins.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said.

"I know."

"I'm a friend of your brother, Valerius."

Minerva paused at that. Valerius was now in his seventh year, and Riddle merely his first; she could not imagine how they would come to be friends.

"I heard about the prophecy," Riddle continued.

She turned away.

He caught hold of her arm, "So did Valerius, and your parents."

She turned to look at him. Her eyes fixed upon his cold green ones and she felt frozen for a moment. Then she remembered he was only a first year, younger than her, less experiences, less powerful. She placed her hand on her wand inside her robes, just in case, and spoke firmly.

"Riddle, please let go of my arm, I have no interest in my family's opinions."

He obeyed but his eyes caught hers once more, "You are a Slytherin," he murmured, "Aren't you, really? You belong with us but you're pretending to be one of them. I admire that."

"I'm not pretending anything," Minerva responded curtly before stalking away.

She glanced behind her once as she left. He was still standing there, watching her. An involuntary shiver shook her slightly and she hoped he had not noticed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Wow! Thank you so much to all who have reviewed - its great to know people are still interested after my terrible delay in updating between chapters 17 and 18. I will certainly try to update more frequently from now on... and on that note - to the update!**

**Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.**

**

* * *

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"Today," announced Professor Probantia, defence against the dark arts teacher, "We will move on to the practical aspect of our study of boggarts. Miss Gray, the spell please?"

"Riddikulus," Miss Gray demonstrated.

"Very good. Now, form a line everyone."

The class formed a line and the teacher released the boggart. One by one they stepped forward to tackle it with shouts of 'riddikulus' and laughter filling the room. Then it was Minerva's turn. She stepped forward, wand held outstretched, pointing directly at the boggart. Suddenly the boggart became Dumbledore. Dumbledore collapsed to the floor, clasping a hand to his heart. Minerva gave a strangled gasp, "Riddikulus," she muttered weakly.

"So you did it," murmured the boggart-Dumbledore weakly, "You fulfilled the prophecy. You showed the truth, Minerva, your Slytherin blood."

Minerva shakily pointed her wand at the boggart, "Riddikulus," she stuttered.

"Why, Minerva? Why have you killed me?" the boggart-Dumbledore whispered as his eyes closed and his chest stopped moving with the rhythm of his breathing.

Minerva's wand clattered to the floor as she stared desperately at the figure before her. Immediately Professor Probantia stepped between her and the boggart and swiftly dealt with it.

"Are you alright, Miss McGonagall?" she asked concernedly as he turned from the boggart to face her.

Minerva nodded, but her face was pale and strained, "May I leave?" she asked softly.

"Of course."

Her classmates watched as she seized her bag and books and hurried from the room.

* * *

The following weekend Minerva, having recently received permission from her father, went with Kim and William to Hogsmeade. The trio were sitting enjoying butterbeer when Valerius entered and came straight to their table.

"Father's outside, Minerva," he told her calmly, "He wishes to speak with you, privately."

William and Kim glanced at Minerva who considered this for a moment before getting to her feet.

"Its fine," she told her two friends, "I won't be long."

Outside she found her father who, on seeing her, placed an arm around her shoulders and spoke almost affectionately to her.

"Minerva, my dear, are you enjoying your trip to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, thank you, father," she murmured.

"Good. I'm very proud of you, Minerva; I should never have doubted your loyalty."

She looked at him uncertainly.

"Now I understand why you were destined for Gryffindor," he continued, "I really think you will please me more than your brothers, you've always been more magical than either of them."

"Father, please, if this is about the prophecy, I'm not – I won't…"

"Of course not, but one day," he smiled thinly, "I feel I should apologise for how I have treated you, I did not fully understand. Now I do, you can be part of your family again, you will come home for Christmas won't you?"

"Yes, Father, if you want me to." Minerva found herself agreeing almost without knowing what she was doing.

"Good girl. I shall write to Headmaster Dippet and make sure he knows."

Her father patted her shoulder and turned to leave, but as she walked away he called after her.

"Minerva!"

"Yes, father."

"You may spend as much time with Albus Dumbledore as you wish."

Minerva could think of no response so she nodded despairingly and returned to her friends.

* * *

"She cannot go, Armando," Dumbledore snapped at the Headmaster, showing a rage he had never before directed at Dippet, "It cannot be allowed."

"Her father has specifically requested she returns home to spend Christmas with her family and she says she is willing to go."

"Her father used the 'doleo' curse on her!"

"That may be true, Albus, but we have no proof."

"I have her word."

"I did what I could, Albus, I spoke to the appropriate authorities…"

"And McGonagall probably paid them, or intimidated them, or who knows what! He has far too much influence in our world, Armando. It cannot be accepted, she cannot be allowed to return to him."

"Albus, if the situation had not changed considerably I would obviously feel as strongly as you. But her father's attitude towards her has changed somewhat. He allows her to go to Hogsmeade, he sends her gifts, he…"

"Because of the prophecy," Dumbledore interrupted him.

"Perhaps – but I cannot prevent her returning to her lawful guardians without more than your word, Albus. You are compromised, at the very least by the prophecy."

"And it is a relief to you, Armando; you don't want her around Hogwarts anymore than is necessary, not with the prophecy hanging over her head."

"I confess to some relief, Albus, but only because I feel this is the best situation for all. Her parents are more accepting of her than they have ever been – the appropriate investigations have taken place and concluded she has a safe and even happy home with them. And yes, Albus, I am afraid of her, and her future. Did the sorting hat not suggest that your destinies were linked? With Caset's prophecy too – Albus, the wizarding world will soon come to depend on you – I cannot allow this prophecy to be fulfilled; I honestly believe it will mean the destruction of our world."

Dumbledore growled, enraged as few had ever seen him, "So you will sacrifice her. You will send her back to whatever occurs there."

"I have no choice, Albus," said Dippet resignedly, "And I am sure she will not be harmed."

Dumbledore stormed out of the office and went in search of Minerva. He could at least leave her with a promise that if she needed anything he would be there.

* * *

"Was it okay?" asked Hermione concerned.

McGonagall smiled weakly, "It was fine," she answered, "My father always believed in the prophecy, right until…" her voice faltered slightly.

There was a silence, broken by Moody entering.

"I've heard from, Albus," he told her gruffly, "He'll be here soon."

"What did he say?"

"Tell Minerva 'she must not fear the knowledge will aid him, he is not mine, and she must not fear for me, whatever happens, the truth will come.' I presume that makes some sort of sense to you?"

She nodded.

"He has always been like that," she said softly, "And I must trust him, I have learned that. I must follow an old friend's counsel, and I must trust Albus as I know him."

"Shall we get on with it?"

"Yes," she smiled, "By all means – we must complete as much as possible before Albus arrives."

**

* * *

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**I'm always keen to not what you think - loved it, hated it,completely indifferent to it? Please Review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**More updates coming now I've managed to solve a timeline disaster, where Minerva managed to stop aging for two years whilst the rest of the world carried on around her!**

**Thank you so much to all who have reviewed – its great to get so much generousfeedback.**

**Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.**

**Now, on with the tale…**

* * *

It was Minerva's sixth year and it was proceeding somewhat similarly to her fifth. She was partially liked by the Gryffindors but partially distrusted because of the prophecy. It was always there, hanging over her head, and keeping her from ever truly being happy.

It had changed her parents though. Gone were the criticisms and the curses, her father was sure she would become a hero to the darkest wizards and witches. She would destroy Dumbledore from within his own house. That was why she had been sorted into Gryffindor, he was sure of it, it was her destiny.

Minerva entered Dumbledore's office confidently, and smiled at him warmly.

"Ah, Minerva, is it time for our chess already?"

"I can wait if you'd rather, sir."

"No, that's fine. Would you mind setting up the board and hot chocolate while I finish this?"

"Of course not," she smiled eagerly as she turned to do as he requested. They only met to play chess once a week now that Minerva had settled into Gryffindor. Still, she enjoyed their games and being able to talk with her head of house and had never missed one.

"You saw your parents at the weekend, didn't you?" inquired Dumbledore, now clearing his desk with a flick of his wand in an attempt to find the pot of sherbet lemons underneath.

"Yes."

"How are they?"

"They're fine."

"How are they towards you?"

"Fine, although part of me wishes they weren't."

"Why?" he asked gently, leaving the desk and heading for the chess board.

"They really believe the prophecy. They think I'm in Gryffindor because I'm destined to kill you and this is how – by getting your trust first and…"

"And then poisoning my hot chocolate," he smiled reaching out for the mug and taking a sip, "I think I'd drink it even if it was poisoned. I couldn't waste it."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Trusting me."

"You don't need to thank me," he told her, "You deserve to be trusted."

He nodded his head towards the desk, "Help yourself to sherbet lemons by the way."

She smiled and moved over to take one, noticing the picture lying on his desk as she did so – Grindelwald.

She felt a sudden cold come over her, as she fixed her eyes on the picture and remembered something, seeing him before – she gave a cry and felt her body begin to tremble.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore was beside her in an instant.

His gaze followed hers, focussed on Grindelwald's picture. He reached out for a pile of transfiguration papers and placed them on top of the picture.

"Minerva."

She stared numbly at the papers now covering the picture.

"Minerva, please don't concern yourself with this. I - you - you're too young to be worrying about Grindelwald."

Finally she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

"I've seen him before. Really seen him I mean, not just a picture."

Dumbledore regarded her silently for a moment, "Where?"

She took a deep breath.

"I can't say," she whispered, "Before I – I remember now – I don't understand why I forgot. I tried to tell you but…"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he reassured her.

"I know."

Yet still she paused, unwilling to truly take this step, knowing all too clearly what the result would be. She did not like her family; even with the improvement in their treatment of her, since she knew their motives, however, she could not help but think they were still her family.

"Minerva?"

Strangely, the sorting hat came into her mind, its parting advice and one line in particular, repeating itself in her mind, 'If you try to choose what is right, you will be fine.'

"He was with my parents," she said the words tripping over each other as she spoke as quickly as she could, "He had a meeting at my house, summer of my first year, they're working with him…"

Minerva swayed and her body keeled over. Dumbledore caught her as she fell and carried her carefully to the hospital wing.

"What happened?" demanded the nurse as he entered.

"She has been cursed," Dumbledore replied softly, "Her father will be here soon, no doubt, to check whom she has told."

"What?"

Dumbledore looked up.

"The curse," he replied softly, "It affects her but it also tells him that she has spoken of things he did not wish her to mention."

"What things?"

"Grindelwald," Dumbledore replied as he left, in search of Professor Probantia and a remedy for the curse.

* * *

Later, stepping on to the staircase which led to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was not surprised to see Minerva's father hurrying in the opposite direction.

"Good evening, Mr McGonagall," he said curtly.

"Dumbledore," McGonagall hissed his name, "I hear my daughter has been taken ill."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, "But we are sure she will make a swift recovery."

McGonagall nodded, "I would like to see her."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, as I'm sure Headmaster Dippet informed you."

"He did." McGonagall leaned closer to Dumbledore, "But she is my daughter, you cannot keep me from speaking with her."

Dumbledore's voice remained polite and low, but hardened considerably, "I will not let you anyway near her, Mr McGonagall. I suggest you go home and consider your defence."

"Defence?"

"I think you know very well what I mean."

McGonagall's hand went to his wand.

Dumbledore mirrored his movement.

"Consider your actions carefully, Mr McGonagall."

McGonagall glared at Dumbledore, but the other held his gaze calmly but firmly.

McGonagall nodded, "Very well, Albus, but I hope you will keep me informed of my daughter's welfare, she is very important to me."

"As a person or a weapon," Dumbledore growled; surprised at the sudden fury he felt inside him, normally he could control his emotions, words and actions, even in the face of evil.

McGonagall scowled and stalked away without so much as a backward glance.

Dumbledore continued up to Dippet's office, to report on Minerva's condition and meet with Ministry officials interested in McGonagall's involvement with Grindelwald.

* * *

Minerva sat up sharply in the hospital wing. Professor Probantia's remedy had been very effective and now she was awake she found herself unable to rest. Her mind played over events again and again. She knew exactly what she had done in telling Dumbledore, knew that he would tell the ministry, knew that everything would be known and her life would change forever, although for better or worse she could not be sure.

She wanted to work and quickly came to an agreement with the nurse, promising to remain in the hospital wing and rest, without complaint, if she was allowed to read her transfiguration textbook.

Thus, on leaving Dippet's office and heading for the hospital wing to check on her, Dumbledore found Minerva curled up and earnestly pursuing the final topic in her NEWT transfiguration book.

"Minerva, you should be resting," he scolded her gently.

She looked up.

"I wanted to do something," she explained, "To work. I – I needed to."

"You don't need to work, Minerva," he answered gently, "If any student could take a few days off it is you, you're so far ahead you're already as far through the transfiguration course as most of the seventh years."

"I don't mean 'need' in that way," she answered.

Dumbledore didn't respond, giving her the opportunity to continue.

"I know – I know what I've done," she took a deep breath, "I mean – telling you – I know things are going to change and – and I'm alone, or I will be – and I'll be seventeen soon anyway and of age – it's just… I'm scared I suppose. I mean – I know this is right and I never really liked – I…"

"Minerva?" he encouraged her gently.

"I suppose its, well; I don't know what's going to happen now. As bad as some things have been in the past, I've coped and I've still had a home, however awful it was at times, and I've always known the way things are. Now, everything is going to change – my whole life. I know its right, but I still feel guilty somehow, my own family you see and, well, I don't know what's going to happen now – and I hate that, not knowing things I mean. But transfiguration," she gestured to the book, almost affectionately, "Transfiguration I can rely upon. I can tell whether I'm doing something right and I can understand it, and know what will happen and why and I – I can control it." She sighed deeply, "That sounds really stupid doesn't it?"

"No," Dumbledore took her hand, "I think I can understand that. You like to understand things, I like to understand people – we're very similar really."

She nodded her head, but kept her gaze focussed on the book, avoiding his eyes.

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "While we're on the subject of transfiguration, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

She looked up at that, her eyes filled with interest.

"You see, I'm soon going to be an awkward position, with you knowing everything in the NEWT course and me completely unable to find anything to teach you for the next year and a half. So, I think the best solution would be for you to take your transfiguration NEWT this year, after all you're better prepared than a large number of my seventh years."

Minerva smiled, "Really?" she asked, her eyes filled with enthusiasm.

"Really. But only if you want to of course?"

"Yes, I do, I'd love to. Thank you."

"Okay, well – don't study too hard will you?"

She just smiled at him as he left and quickly returned her attention to the book in front of her.

* * *

**Please review - you know you want to:-)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Extra chapter (and quitea long one)to make up for the sporadic, irregular and infrequent updating and thank you for all the kind reviews!**

**Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.**

* * *

It was the middle of the summer holidays when Armando Dippet pushed open the door of Dumbledore's office.

"Albus, I must speak with you."

"What about, Headmaster?"

"You know the McGonagall girl best of any of us I think."

Dumbledore nodded.

Dippet sighed, "The ministry has decided to act against her parents."

"How?" queried Dumbledore.

"Her – her mother is to go to Azkaban."

"And her father?"

"The dementors have already performed the kiss."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, contemplating this.

"Albus, it was performed in his home. The girl she was there and – she – she witnessed it. And, well, afterwards, one of the dementors was, well, out of control…"

"What happened?" demanded Dumbledore desperately.

"It tried – tried to attack the girl."

"Is Minerva okay?"

Dippet took a deep breath, "Apparently – I can't be sure."

"How did she come to be there? She was supposed to be spending the summer with the McKinnon's."

"Apparently she disappeared from their home early this morning," Dippet replied, "Some sort of powerful summoning charm."

Dumbledore got to his feet, "I will go to the McGonagall manor immediately."

Dippet nodded, "Be careful though, Albus, do not forget the prophecy."

"And you, Headmaster, do not forget that this girl is more than merely the subject of an unpleasant prophecy." With that, Dumbledore grabbed Fawkes' tail and they were gone in a flash of fire.

Finding himself in the McGonagall Manor, Dumbledore surveyed his surroundings silently until a ministry official appeared.

"Can I help you, Professor?"

"I am looking for Miss McGonagall; I'm her Head of House."

"She's round on the main staircase," the official shook his head, eyes focussed on the ground, "Poor girl," he added softly, "No one in this job has ever witnessed the kiss, ministry regulations – no witnesses, performed by the dementors alone."

"Then how did Miss McGonagall end up witnessing it? She wasn't even supposed to be here." Dumbledore demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and the fury from his tone.

"That was the problem wasn't it," replied the official, "No one knew she was there."

Dumbledore shook his head in disgust; that was it – 'no one knew she was there.' He walked away, round the curve of the hallway to the main staircase where he saw her, sitting quietly seven stairs up. She was sitting rigidly, unmoving, frozen. A deathly pale covered her face, in stark contrast to her long dark hair, indeed, even her lips were white. Her brown eyes were bigger and darker than usual and there was a haunted look to them as they stared blankly ahead of her, unseeing, not even registering his entrance.

He moved carefully up the stairs towards her and sat down beside her.

"Minerva."

She didn't move, her expression remained empty and her eyes continued to gaze blankly into the hallway.

He placed a hand on hers, which rested on the step beside her, and was shocked to feel how cold she was.

"Minerva," he said again.

Still there was no response. She remained as though carved out of stone; or ice if her temperature was any indication.

He reached into his pocket and produced a block of chocolate. Carefully he broke off a piece and held it before her.

"Please eat this, Minerva," he implored her, "You will feel better."

Still without changing her expression, moving, or even looking at him, she finally spoke, in a hollow, emotionless voice.

"He wanted me to see."

Dumbledore looked at her curiously, "Who wanted you to see?" he asked, "And see what? The dementors?"

Her hand clenched when he said 'dementors', otherwise she did not even acknowledge that he had spoken.

"Minerva, please eat this, you need it."

She took the piece of chocolate from his hand, still rigid, still not turning to face him. She put the chocolate to her lips and ate it slowly.

Dumbledore waited.

"He knew it was coming. He wanted me to see it. That's why he brought me here. He wanted me to see 'the true face of the side I have chosen'."

"Your father?"

She nodded.

"He wanted me to know what I'd done – by telling you about Grindelwald, he – he thought it might change me I think, that I might…"

"Fulfil the prophecy?"

She nodded again.

"I'm so sorry, Minerva. You shouldn't have had to witness that…"

"He was right."

"What?"

"I have seen the truth, and I have changed."

"Minerva?"

"I truly believed there was good and evil; clear, distinct differences between them – but there isn't is there? They're mixed up together – good is just 'less evil' – I…"

Dumbledore placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. They took his soul," her voice cracked slightly, "I know he was evil, I know that, but – but they were supposed to be good and they took his soul, how is that good? Sir, how is that right?"

Her voice shook and tears rolled down her pale cheeks. Dumbledore held her in his arms as she sobbed brokenly, and found himself completely unable to think of anything to say.

It was in that moment that Dumbledore reached some further understanding of right and wrong and sitting there, holding his distraught student, he had to agree – the use of dementors was unjustified, wrong, and dangerous, and he would oppose it from then on.

* * *

An awkward silence filled the room as the remnants of the memory faded. Everyone stared uncomfortably at the pensieve, uncertain of how to react.

Harry could not help recalling the end of the previous term and felt a strong sympathy for his professor, but he had no idea of what to say or, for that matter, how to say it.

Finally Sirius's mother broke the silence, her yelling echoing outside the room. A number of the adults got to their feet and went to draw the curtains across the portrait once more.

McGonagall smiled softly at those who remained, mostly those who had not been in the Order before and had no opportunity to hear the story, nevertheless, the smile did not really reach her eyes.

"It was a long time ago," she told them softly, "I will not tell you that I've forgotten or that I feel it less; but I can at least assure you I have had more than fifty years to accept it."

Her hands shook slightly as she spoke and the sadness remained in her eyes, but otherwise she gave no indication that revisiting the memory had affected her.

The group who had gone to deal with the portrait returned, but an additional figure followed them and stood silently in the doorway as they took their seats.

"Minerva," he said softly.

She turned and her eyes fixed upon him.

"Albus," she murmured, reassured by his presence, as always.

He entered and took a seat, somewhat wearily.

"Is everything okay, Albus?" she asked gently.

"Dolores has been talking to Lucius Malfoy," he answered calmly.

"And Malfoy is with you-know-who."

Dumbledore nodded.

Minerva put her head in her hands, "What are we to do, Albus?" she asked anxiously.

He shook his head, "They do not know everything," he answered, "ButI think it may betime that our friends knew all, but I must let you decide."

"What if we have a traitor in our midst again, Albus?"

"That is a risk, Minerva, and I am afraid. I am afraid that in telling this it will not be me placed at risk, but you. That's why I will let you decide how much we tell."

"If you think it should all be told then it will be," she answered softly, "I trust you, Albus, always."

"I only wish I deserved your trust."

She reached for his hand, "You do," she told him firmly, "And you always will."

"I begin to fear that I am making mistakes, Minerva."

She bit her lip and repeated words she had once been told, words that had eventually become her guide in life, "If you try to choose what is right, you will be fine. You always seek what is right, Albus, so you have nothing to fear."

He didn't respond, but the look in his eyes took the truth from her words and gave the answer clearly – what if you try to do what is right, but end up doing what is wrong.

McGonagall looked away from his face and back at the hand she still held in her own.

"This is not our war," she whispered, "You said it yourself, as much as we wish it could be, it is not. We must help however we can – I see why you feel it should be told, and I will trust you, wherever you lead."

He bowed his head in assent, "So the time comes," he muttered softly.

They remained, silent and unmoving, side by side, until Lupin finally spoke.

"Shall I continue?" he asked.

McGonagall nodded and leaning forward peered into the pensieve, "My seventh year," she murmured thoughtfully.

Lupin took the strand of the memory with his wand and it began.

* * *

It was 2am but Minerva McGonagall could not sleep, once again her dreams had been filled with the dementors. She was sitting in the Gryffindor common room reading, or more accurately, pretending to read, her mind was far from the words on the page.

"Y'allright?"

She turned to the third year behind her.

"Hagrid," she said softly.

"Y'allright?" he asked again.

She gave a false smile, "Fine, thank you."

"No you're not." Hagrid put a considerable strain on the chair beside her as he joined her in front of the fire.

She didn't answer.

"Is it cos o' the things the others been saying?" Hagrid asked, "Cos you know it isn't true, you're not like the rest o' your family you know."

"How can you be so sure, Hagrid?"

"Professor Dumbledore trusts you don't he?"

Minerva sighed, "Do you really think Professor Dumbledore is always right, Hagrid?"

"He's been very good to me, Professor Dumbledore has, and he's a clever man is Professor Dumbledore, right most o' the time," Hagrid nodded his head emphatically, "Good man, Professor Dumbledore, my dad always said so."

Minerva gazed silently at the fire.

"What's wrong?" Hagrid demanded, "You don't agree about Professor Dumbledore?"

"My dad never said Dumbledore was a good man," she answered softly, "But he wasn't very interested in good men."

"You thinking about your family?"

Minerva sighed, "I haven't really got any family now. Not that I ever had much of one to begin with."

Hagrid nodded his head in understanding, "My dad's dead now," he muttered sadly, "Died last year."

Minerva nodded, "I'm sorry, Hagrid."

He shrugged, "I miss him o' course, always will won't I? Professor Dumbledore's been good to me though – like I say, he's a good man."

"I'm not sure there is such a thing, Hagrid."

"What you talking about?"

"You heard," she paused, "You heard what happened to my family didn't you? At least I suppose you did, everyone else seems to know."

"Yeah, I heard."

"If that's what good men do, Hagrid, then is there really any truth in the idea of a 'good man'."

"That's what the ministry did," Hagrid told her, "But they're not all the good men in the world – there's plenty more, like Professor Dumbledore – you think he thought what they did was right?"

"I don't know, Hagrid. I don't know what to think."

"You're upset," he told her, "You'll be alright in the end, same as how I was really upset when my dad first died, but now I'm alright, even though I miss him and all."

She smiled softly, "I don't miss my family, Hagrid, I know what they were. But I still hate what happened to my father. You've never seen a dementor's kiss, Hagrid, you don't know what it's like, that horrible cold feeling and the way they swoop down, and the – the look in," she swallowed, forcing back the tears that were threatening to overflow, "The look in someone's eyes, when they – they see that – that thing coming towards them, the terror, terror like you can't imagine and, and, and then the look just disappears and sud-suddenly the terror's gone and all there's nothing left – nothing – just emptiness…"

Hagrid put an enormous arm around her shoulders. "You shouldn't have 'ad to see that," he told her, "That wasn't right."

She choked on a sob and addressed her hands as she rubbed them together in her lap. "I can't forget it, Hagrid, not even for a minute; and I daren't sleep – the nightmares are so awful," she blinked away her tears and confessed shakily, "I've felt cold ever – ever since I saw it. Professor Dumbledore gave me chocolate but it didn't work – nothing works. I just feel cold all the time."

"You should tell Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid told her, "maybe he could help."

She shook her head.

"Hagrid, you don't understand."

"Understand what?" he asked her, confused.

"I don't trust him anymore, Hagrid, I can't. He was a part of it – he helped the ministry and he knew what would happen – he knew…"

"Its not his fault, you can't blame him for the dementors."

"I know it's not his fault, Hagrid. But I–I just can't trust him anymore – I'm not sure I can trust anyone."

Hagrid could think of no response, and Minerva soon realised that.

"You should get some sleep, Hagrid," she told him, "Besides; I'd like to be alone."

"You sure?" he asked her.

She nodded, "I need to think."

"Alright," he said and headed for the boys staircase.

"Hagrid."

"Yeah?"

"Promise you won't tell anyone what I said, including Dumbledore," she took a deep breath, "It's private."

He nodded, "Alright, I won't say a word, I promise."

She smiled slightly through her tears, "Thank you."

Hagrid nodded and continued up the staircase; he might not tell anyone, but he would certainly give the matter some consideration himself.

* * *

It was two nights later that Minerva, sitting in the common room still unable to sleep, was joined by Hagrid again.

"Minerva," he said softly.

She turned to look at him.

"You still having trouble sleeping?"

She retuned her gaze to the fire and nodded.

"Still cold?"

"I think I always will be, Hagrid."

"Maybe," he answered, "But maybe not. I got something for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He took something furry out from a pocket of his enormous coat.

"It's a visctepidus," he told her, holding out the creature which seemed to be mostly a large furry ball with a small snout visible at one end.

"Visctepidus?" she asked uncertainly.

"They're the most warm-hearted creatures there are," he told her, "They like to try to warm other people's hearts too, when theyre not happy. He's got such a warm heart it make his whole body hot, even if you put him in ice – I thought he might be able to help you – keep him with you and then he'll be able to warm you up and help you sleep, see?"

She nodded and held out her hand. The visctepidus sniffed at her fingers and then crawled on to her hand, along her arm and curled up against her chest, near her heart. She felt an incredible warming sensation spread through her, accompanied by a sudden feeling of comfort.

She stroked the little creature fondly and then looked up at Hagrid, "Thank you," she whispered, "I think he will help."

Hagrid nodded, "Good," he said, "I'll leave you be."

As he headed back up the staircase she called out to stop him.

"Hagrid."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for this – really – I – is there anything I can do for you, in return?"

He considered this for a moment.

"If you wouldn't mind…"

"What?"

"I'm having a bit o' trouble with my transfiguration."

She smiled warmly, "I'd love to help you."

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**Hope you liked this chapter - please tell me if you did, didn't or just want to comment on some aspect of the story. :-)**


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